


Scars

by sk8erlucas



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Self-Harm, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:18:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2242149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sk8erlucas/pseuds/sk8erlucas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is basically nothing but an angsty au where whatever marks you have, your soulmate will too until you meet.<br/>I’m so sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

     Every soul mate shares each other’s scars.

     It’s not on purpose- it’s just something that has and will happen to everyone. Basicially, whatever wound you have, your soul mate will have a mirrored one in the exact same spot but the day you meet, the scars will disappear.

     That’s how Calum’s parents got together- his mother had a scratch on her hand after a quarrel with a stray cat and his father had a nasty bruise on his cheek from a few too many drinks in a troublesome bar- but they both had identical marks in identical places. One fateful morning they bumped into each other on the streets of Sydney and watched in overwhelming relief as the marks on their hands and faces faded almost instantaneously, replaced with such a vivacious love that led to producing Calum and his sister Mali-Koa a few years later.

     When Calum and Mali-koa were younger,  the story of how his parents met would be told like a bedtime story- the twinkle in his parent’s eyes as they tucked him into bed made him desperately crave foreign markings on his tanned skin, going to great lengths to examine his body before and after bed- yearning, desperately wishing for a sign of a person made for him.

       Mali-Koa, being older, started getting marks long before him. One summer when Calum was 12 and at the dinner table, Mali was reaching for a bowl of vegetables when the knuckles on her dominant hand suddenly grew an angry red, the family growing silent as they watched her knuckles slowly turn red and busted, an open wound but no blood and definitely no pain. She held up her hands closer to her face in amazement, watching the red turn into a sickening bruise.

     “My hands are so warm”  Mali finally said, a grin spreading across her face. “I think he’s a fighter?”

      “Or she” His mother corrected- because soulmates knew no gender- “Whoever it is, sure as hell puts their all into it.”

      The family laughed except for Calum who sipped his water silently, jealously souring his mouth as he silently begged to whatever higher power to show a sign-any sign of a soulmate.

 

    He got his answer sooner than he expected, but not in the way he’d like.

 

     Calum was undeniably a clumsy child; always getting cuts and scratches from sharp coffee tables or over something silly, but all of his scratches were accounted for- he was almost religious about the marks on his body, so when one morning he woke up with a large bruise on his upper arm, his face twisted into confusion as he traced the outline of the yellowing purple mark, blinking a few times only to realize it was in the shape of a hand. After ransacking his mind for anything last night that would’ve given him a bruise- he felt a pang of excitement when he realized it was his soul mate’s… But it was short lived.

     Realizing again the bruise was a handprint and assuming the worst, anger flared in his bones as he glared at the bruise, but at the same time, a flicker of worry for his partner. Is his partner okay? How did they get the bruise? Who gave it to them? His mind was racing as he clutched the counter that early Saturday morning, but on the second hand, his arm was throbbing with warmth and Calum most definitely had a soulmate.

 

     He kept the bruise a secret, making sure to wear sleeves until it wore off, but his worry stayed. Were they okay? He prayed it was a one time thing, but he soon found out that his wish wasn’t answered.

      He woke up one morning and the first thing he noticed was his arms were tingling with the same unexplainable warmth as before. In a panicked rush, he bolted into the bathroom only to nearly fainted at the sight.

     His right upper arm had four fresh cigarette burns, nasty handprints on both arms, and a bruise on his rib cage. He wanted to scream, his heart breaking at the thought of his soulmate in such an abused state and he couldn’t do anything to help. He didn’t even know where to begin- so he simply buckled down on the tiled floor, crying hysterically over a person he’s never met.

      His mother was the one who found him on the floor, a look of panic on her face but when her eyes flickered down to the wounds on his arm, her face washed over in sorrow.

     ”Oh,  _honey_ " she sighed, dropping to her knees and pulling the 17 year old boy into her arms.

     They cried together for a little while, until Calum was reduced to only sniffles, his eyes brimming with tears every time his eyes flickered over to his marks.

     ”I’m working the late shift at the hospital tonight- If someone comes in with the same marks, I’ll call you, okay?” His mother said softly, adjusting her scrub top as the two of them recollected themselves.

     He nodded numbly, wanting nothing more to run out and ransack every house in Sydney (assuming his soulmate was in the same city) until he found her, him, whoever, and kick the ass of whoever caused these burns and bruises. But he knew today wasn’t the day, so he spent the rest of the day in bed, tracing the bruises until he fell asleep with tear-stained cheeks.

 

     He didn’t get any new marks for awhile, only bruises on his ribs or stomach from time to time- his mind twisted in rage as he realized the assailant kept their abuse hidden under clothes. Beside the marks, he always wondered what his soulmate looked like. He’s pretty sure it’s a girl, but he visualized her with dark hair and dark eyes, or blue eyes and red hair, or blonde, or anything really. He probably came up with a 100 different faces for her, but all Calum really cared about is if he met her expectations. He hoped he did.

      Concealing his marks from time to time, he always kept an eye out for other people’s wounds, even going to great extents to give himself a tiny scratch on the back of his hand to see if someone- anyone shared the same, but he was unsuccessful.

 

      It had been 6 months from his encounter in the bathroom and the cigarette burns, and Christmas had come and gone, his 18th quickly approaching. He felt like a new  _man_ \- the vibe of being 18 put him in a state of unknown excitement as he belted Katy Perry in shower, the excitement of waking up tomorrow a man. He was reaching up on the shower rack for his conditioner when the skin on his wrist tore open- bright and angry and glaring black at him as he stumbled back, nearly toppling out of the shower and dropping his conditioner in the process.

     ” _No_ " he gasped, clutching his arm as another line popped up underneath it, this time thicker. “No!” He shouted, his heart racing as he watched one cut after another appear on his wrist, his heart breaking more and more as he blindly shut off the shower, his hair long forgotten.

     ”No no please, stop!” He choked, silently begging his soulmate to listen.

      ”You’re so fucking important to me- please stop” he sobbed at his arm, clutching it to his chest as he rocked in the tub, rubbing his thumb along his too-warm wrist in hopes that somewhere- somehow- they’d feel it too. Why were the doing this? His soulmate- the human Calum was made and designed to love with everything in him, was harming themself, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He audibly cried out at the thought, feeling so helpless and he could do nothing but caress the cuts, whimpering as his mind swam with despair.

     When there wasn’t another cut 10 agonizing minutes later, he numbly finished his shower and crawled into bed to another dreamless night filled with worry.

      The next morning was brutal. He woke up just as numb as last night, walking like a zombie into his bathroom only to see more cuts- and also a word.

      Along with three new cuts on each arm, ‘Useless’ was carved into his right thigh, upside down and in a sadistic scratchy font, and Calum was too numb to cry again. “Why do you do this?” He whispered, staring in the mirror where the lie was carved into his skin. “Please, you’re worth so much more than them.” his voice cracked at the end, before shaking his head, the somberness instantly turning to fury.

    Calum could kill a man- or woman- whoever the hell pushed his partner to such self-hatred and self-harming. He didn’t have to meet his soulmate to know they were absolutely perfect. The fact that someone had the audacity to useanyone as an ashtray or a punching bag was beyond his understanding, but rage filled him nonetheless.

   Unable to channel his anger, a not so brilliant idea popped in his head as Calum thrusted his fist forward, colliding with the mirror and shattering it into a million pieces, screaming at nothing as he did so.

   The second the last shard of mirror fell, reality came crashing back down around the boy, along with the pain that seared through his hand.

    Calum’s mother burst through the door, took one look at Calum’s carved body, broken mirror and probably broken hand and said nothing more, but simply ushered him into his bedroom, put him in a pair of pants and drove him to the hospital.

  
  


     “Calum Hood?”

     The dark haired boy looked up from his bandaged hand and into the soft gray eyes of the nurse with an eyebrow raised in acknowledgement.

      They were at the hospital for over two hours now, his hand bandaged up and a million questions on his emotional stability- the cuts on his arms and leg not helping his case. They had finally believed it was his soulmate’s with hesitancy, but the nurse who had bandaged his hand and saw the marks on his arm only, had the same soft face as she had now, standing in front of him in the hospital room.

    “Ms. Dawn?” Calum asked, now becoming familiar with the red headed nurse.

     She looked hesitant, closing the room door behind her. “I really shouldn’t be doing this, and I can lose my job over this- but do you have any words cut into your leg?”

      Calum shot his mother who was sitting next to him a questioning look- he hadn’t told the doctors about the word on his thigh.

       “How did you know?” he said blankly, turning back to her.

        The hesitancy returned, before nodding to herself. “I need to show you something, mind if I steal him for a minute?” She asked his mother.

        She nodded, but Calum was still confused. What did she need to show him? How did she even know about the cuts?

        Ms. Dawn wordlessly led him out of the room and down several halls, before stopping in front of a room minutes later. She stopped, scanning the hallway around them before looking him dead in the eye.

       “She’s not allowed any visitors, but I figured you’d be an exception.”

       She?

       She.

        _She_.

       Oh.

       Oh  _shit_.

       Calum stopped breathing, his head and heart and stomach exploding in all sorts of emotions. His fucking soulmate was behind that door.

       “You’re fucking shitting me.” Calum gasped, clutching his chest as he stared at the door, his eyes snapping back to the nurse. “Sorry about the language.”

        She smiled, resting a hand on his shoulder and gave him a small squeeze. “Don’t worry about it, just thank me later.”

       And with that, she was gone, leaving Calum alone in the hallway with his Soulmate on the other side of the door.

      He stared at the door, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans as he took a deep breath, mentally cursing himself for not brushing his teeth before punching that damn mirror.

     Now or never.

     In a burst of courage, he turned the handle and stepped in, closing the door behind him; his fate sealed.

      “I told the last nurse I was fine, I’m just-”

      There was an audible gasp from the both of them as Calum’s eyes landed on her, a grin bursting from his lips.

      She was gorgeous, despite being hooked up to an IV and a few machines, and her arms completely covered in bandages, and a million times more beautiful than what Calum ever imagined.

     She looked at him with a look of confusion for a half a second before her eyes flickered down to his exposed wrists, her breath hitching and tears springing to her eyes.

    “You- I- you” She choked, her busted hand (thanks to Calum) rising to her trembling lips. “You”

     Calum watched in amazement as the wound on her hand quickly sealed up, looking back down to his arms to see the cuts visibly fading away as well. He was crying now, too, making his way over to the girl with such a leap in his step he nearly crashing into the hospital bed, they both giggled at that, but seconds later they had locked eyes and silence quickly settled in between them.

     Without a word, he took the hand that was over her mouth and put it in both of his, electricity coursing through his veins as he looked into her eyes with such admiration that he finially understood the story his father would always tell.

     “You’re real” she gasped, tears streaming down her face. “I- I- I thought-”

     “I’m real.” He confirmed, intertwining his fingers with hers and ignoring the heart monitor that was going crazy behind him. “And you, Missy, scared the living shit out of me.”

     She looked down in shame, a blush tinting her cheeks, stifling a sob. “I’m so sorry, I just-”

     “Hey, none of that.” he cooed, bringing his free hand and cupping her chin, to turn her face back to his. “I’m real, I’m here, and it’s going to be okay.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his head swimming at how soft her skin was under her lips, and how she- his soulmate-  basically melted into his touch. “It’s going to be okay.”

     He had a lot of questions- who, what, when, where, and how he was going to kick some ass, but all he cared about now was his soulmate was right here, right now, and alive- that’s all he could ever care about.

     “I’m Calum” he said once he pulled away. “Calum Hood”

      She smiled, looking up at him with eyes he’d end up wanting to spend eternity swimming in.

      “Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” 


	2. Part 2

   “Why’d you do it?”

     She winced, averting her eyes from her lover and gazed up at the off-white colored ceiling. It’s been two years since that fateful night in the hospital, and even after a two years, a house and a diamond ring later, she had yet to open up about that subject. “Um” she stalled, chewing her lip thoughtfully.

     It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him- she trusted him more than anything- it was just so difficult to talk about.

     She had spent her entire life learning how to bottle up her emotions, sweeping them under the rug until nighttime. She learned to keep her mouth shut, the threat of acrimonious judgement and punishment looming over her shoulder every time she was tempted to cry out to someone- anyone- about the treatment she received at home. She was ashamed, bred to loathe herself to the point of self-harm. Having spent so long without being authentic love and care, she took it upon herself. She was her own worst enemy and her only best friend, it cruelly seemed.

     But that night two years ago, after being caught by a friend and rushed to the hospital, a raven-haired boy named Calum with big brown eyes and identical scars burst through into her room and through the barriers of her heart- as most soulmates do to their mate- but there was one barrier left standing: the one closest to her heart and the reason why.

     “I had to” she finally squeaked, breaking the too-long silence. “At the time I thought I deserved it.”

      She could practically hear the shattering of her soulmate’s heart as she rolled into his chest, his hand instinctively falling on her waist. Suddenly, the room felt way too hot as she sucked in a breath. “I thought I didn’t have a soulmate, remember? Everyone thought there was something wrong with me- especially my parents.”

     Calum’s hold on her unintentionally tightened at the reminder, clenching his jaw as he remembered the bruises of handprints and cigarette burns that used to litter his younger body. His eyes darkened in anger at the thought of his mate ever being harmed, but then sadness washed over him as he lightened his touch.

    “So I took it out on myself. I was so numb to the world as it was- there were times I didn’t even feel it.” She continued, oblivious to Calum’s teary eyes because her eyes were the same. “I felt so damn worthless and-”

     “But you’re not” Calum interjected, speaking for the first time in awhile. “You’re not worthless. You’re perfect and-”

     “I’m not perfect” She scoffed, blinking away her tears and replacing it with a small smile.

     This was normal for Calum; to tell her she was ‘perfect in every single fucking way possible’, but she was always quick to dismiss it- something that was normal, too.

   “Yes you are” he grumbled, rolling so she was caught underneath him, his breath fanning over her face as he hovered himself over her. “You are the single most perfect person I have ever met in my entire life and I love you.”

    “You’re supposed to say that.” She smirked, kissing his jaw. “You’re my soulmate. You’re supposed to think that.”

     “I think it because it’s a fact. I went up to a scientist the other day and said ‘hey, look at my soulmate’ and he was like, ‘damn. she’s perfect’. So obviously, it’s a fact. I don’t make up the rules” He said, grinning as he dipped his head to return the kisses. “Scientists are always right.”

     “You’re such a liar, Hood” she chuckled, rolling her eyes. “You don’t even know a scientist.”

     “You’re right.” He laughed, before kissing her sweetly. “But if I did ever meet a scientist- that’s what he/she’d say.” he said matter-of-factly.

      “Whatever” she giggled, hooking her legs around his waist. “If I’m perfect, you’re like Aphrodite”

      “Aphrodite is a chick” He mused, one of his hands trailing the curve of her hip and hitching her leg tighter around his waist and grinding lightly against her. “And if I’m Aphrodite, you’re Hera, who, by the way, is more beautiful than Aphrodite.”

      “Not to Paris” She reminded him, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth as hummed at the sparks of pleasure that coursed through her as his hardening bulge rutted perfectly against her core. “How does Paris fit in this equation? Besides, he only chose Aphrodite because of Helen, remember? They all bribed him.”

      “Damn, you’re right.” She pouted. “You win”

      He smirked triumphantly, giving her exposed thigh a playful smack. “Do I get a reward?”

      “I was waiting for that” she teased, placing a hand on his chest to push him onto his back. He obliged happily, his hands going to her waist as she grinded on his bare cock, internally thanking himself for his habit of never wearing clothes. She was only in a pair of gray boy-short panties and a tank top- too much clothing for his liking.

     “Stop wearing more clothes than me” he groaned, throwing his head back as a wave of pleasure crashed down on him mid-sentence, completely under the mercy of his fiance gyrating her hips in such a skilled way.

     She obeyed, pulling off her tank and momentarily getting off of him to remove her panties, only to straddle him again. “Better?” she teased, his now rock-hard clock sliding effortlessly between her folds. He nodded feverishly, his blunt nails lightly scraping down her back. “Just take my cock already” he gasped.

    “So soon?” she fake-pouted. “You fucked me a few hours ago.”

    “And I need to again- that’s what you fucking do to me” he spoke through gritted teeth, flipping them over again and sinking into her in one go.

    “Fuck!” She gasped, slightly stunned from being knocked off the upper hand, moaning obscenely as he began to pound her into the mattress like he had the world to prove to her. He did, technically, but he wouldn’t actually say it.

     Calum was a cheeky little devil in the bedroom; covering her in bite marks and fucking her into the next century and until she couldn’t walk the next day, but tonight it was different. Tonight was 100% passion, hoping that the adoration that thrived in his heart and brain would convinced her that what he spoke was true- she was beyond perfect.

      She was writhing under him, pulsating around him as they chased each other’s orgasm quickly, a calloused hand on her abused clit (from activities hours before) caused her to come first quickly and intensely. With a moan of his name, she milked him into his euphoria as he pulled out and coated her breasts, neck and face with thick ropes of his come, his eyes screwed shut and mouth agape as he shuddered. “Holy fuck” he sighed, his eyes flickering down to her tight nipples that were coated with his semen. Blindly grabbing for his phone, he snapped a picture of his masterpiece; his fucked-out soulmate with his come on her tits; the second most beautiful way he’s seen her.

      She blushed as he took the picture, before swiping his finger along her breast to collect his come, holding it to her lips and she happily obliged, cleaning off his fingers before giving him a giddy smile.

      And yeah, that’s definitely the most beautiful way he’s seen her.

      “I love you” he blurted, as if he hadn’t told her every single day for the past two years. “And you’re perfect. I don’t care what you say- you’re flawless and amazing and you saved my life.”

       He almost didn’t hear it, but when he laid down next to her and pulled her back into his chest, she whispered a soft “You saved me, too.”

       And that’s all he needed.

 


End file.
